I wanted something alive. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. “Yeah. And afterwards! Sir John drew his cigar from his lips, and looked upwards where the white-lights flashed strangely amongst the deep cool green of the lime-trees. Sir John hesitated, and then continued.
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